The poor! Disgusting, really. When I drive by them and my chauffeur raises an eyebrow in the rearview mirror, I’ve occasionally rolled down the window a quarter inch and allowed a nickel to drop outside, but usually I deploy the motorized privacy curtains and go back to swimming around in my ducat-filled onboard swimming pool like Scrooge McDuck. Times are tough, however, even for the revoltingly successful like myself. That’s why I’d like to downsize a bit, to something more economical. We all have to tighten belts – it’s not like my stonking pile of bills is going to multiply on its own, now is it?
Here’s my plan – ethanol! Yes, I’ll convert this miserly, fuel-sipping Arnage to run on alcohol. And the brilliant part is we’ll get that alcohol by fermenting the disadvantaged! Finally, they’ll be useful to high society!
And for the ridiculously low entry price of $155,285.31, how could I afford not to? Give me a buy-it-now button and I’ll have a servant click on it. Then that servant will go into the fermenter, and subsequently into my newest Bentley (one of only 12!). After all, wouldn’t want him slipping on the job and siphoning off the hard-earned excessive riches of the job creators through such socialist frivolities as the Americans with Disabilities Act, now would we? Who founded this country anyhow … Leon Trotsky? As a “thanks for everything, comrade!” parting gesture, he got an egalitarian icepick in the skull. For my efforts, I’ve accumulated enough wealth to allow 15,650 Paraguayan peasants to improve the lives of their children through proper education, or just enough to afford the fourth home I’ve been eying in the Hamptons.
What I’m really trying to say here is that I really really really deserve this as a small token of all I’ve done for this fine nation of ours. And things are about to get a lot better when I open up my new biofuel refinery, Soylent Industries, which will provide jobs for the wealthy by turning the poor into hydrocarbons! “Drill, baby, drill” is so 2009 … the anthem of the future will be “kill, baby, kill!”
Ah, sometimes I crack myself up.
eBay Motors
'Kill Kill Kill Kill Kill the Poor' from the Comfort of Connolly Hides
By Alex Kierstein
Apr 14, 2011
Jeff Glucker
I want to hop in that thing and start doing donuts in the field.
Oh, God, that was my first thought too. "Damn, I'd probably get off after a few good powerslides across that grass." Maybe wipe out one or two of those puny pines while I'm at it.
I live only a few miles from Bentley of St. Louis. Just across the street is what was the worlds largest Hummer dealer.
That's just good strategy. Why not pick something up for Junior when you're out buying yourself a car.
Right in front of the world's largest strip mall.
<img src="http://livesniffpetrol.s3.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/spad_bentleymulsanne.jpg">
I think that you should also paint it pink, just so that people know that you worked hard for every nickel you've got, just like Paris Hilton.
If only someone would figure out a way to build a small, portable ethanol-purifying distiller, then we could run a Bentley straight from bottles of gin and single malt scotch. This would be particularly good for the Overfinch Holland and Holland edition Range Rover, which comes with a "self-replenishing" supply of the stuff for the first year of ownership.
<img src="http://blog.fultonleasing.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/range-rover-overfinch4.jpg" width="600">
<img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v53/jackhunter64/homer.jpg">
Obligatory Simpsons reference
Seriously, Scroggs, you need to tone it down a bit. You're killing it so hard in the comments, you might be scaring off those without your Jedi mastery of the comment arts.
Yeah … on second thought, all ahead full!
Bentley, hell. One dark and desperate night, I ran my '74 Bug about five miles on most of a half gallon bottle of cheap gin. Hey, it ran out of gas, and it was either that, or spend the night by the side of the road. It barely ran above idle, but, we got to where we needed to go.
Well, I love them full sizers
Smashed an AXE into his head. An ice axe!
An excellent and funny play, "Variations on the Death of Trotsky", was written about this by David Ives:
[youtube U_GczOall0o&feature=related http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U_GczOall0o&feature=related youtube]
Efficiency and progress are ours once more.